


Eye of the Storm

by BarPurple



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Introspection, Post - Six Thatchers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 03:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9529469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: A little piece written right after the Six Thatchers episode.





	

It was flattering to get the attention of a pretty woman. He couldn’t remember the last time it had happened. Sherlock had pointed out a few lingering glances directed his way after the aborted exile, but John had always brushed them off, he wasn’t interested, he was married with a child on the way.

He wasn’t sure why that changed with the redhead on the bus, but it had. He still didn’t know why he kept her number, but for all he dithered about it the moment he tucked that scrap of paper into his pocket was the moment he decided he would text her.

He knew it was stupid, he had no idea who this woman was, but a little voice at the back of his mind pointed out that he really had no idea who his wife was either.

As insanely complicated as it was keeping a secret conversation going with E, it was also simple. A reminder of an easier time before Rosie, before Mary, before Sherlock when he could chat up a woman on the bus and go through the motions of getting to know her without it needing to cross his mind that she might be a spy, assassin, or super villain. 

He told himself that he was just making a new friend, that was acceptable wasn’t it? They rode the same bus together, people chatted with other regulars on public transport all the time without it leading to anything more than a friendly acquaintance. It was nice to chat about normal, ordinary things, and the flirting was an ego boost, of course it was.

Late at night after Rosie was settled and Mary was sleeping beside him he wondered who he was lying to more, Mary or himself? The longer this thing with E went on, the longer Mary or Sherlock failed to notice anything, the easier it was to tell himself that it was all fine. In his more honest moments he accepted that he was taking advantage of his wife and best friend’s current distracted states; Mary was tired from looking after Rosie and Sherlock was running through cases like the end of the world was coming. As long as neither of them said anything then his thing with E wasn’t real, or harmful, it couldn’t be if the two most observant people he knew weren’t saying anything about it.

Afterwards, after Mary, John hated Sherlock. E gave him some one outside of all of that, someone to talk to about ordinary, boring things. And for a while that was a comfort.

But John Watson never thrived on comfort no matter how hard he tried, or how much he denied the side of himself that craved chaos it always was there howling on the edge of his consciousness poised to drag him into the storm once more.

Texting E stilled the storm, offered him an oasis of calm normality, yet it wasn’t peaceful or soothing for him, he’d felt this way twice in his life before and both time amazingly, wonderful mad people had pulled him into the storm again. There was no chance of Mary saving him this time, but there was still Sherlock.

A month after Mary’s funeral John woke early and looked to the east. He deleted the redhead’s number and sent a text to one he knew by heart.

_Any cases?_

_Always. Come at once. SH_

**Author's Note:**

> A little piece written right after the Six Thatchers episode.


End file.
